Aren't Musicals Kind of Gay?
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: Somebody neglected to inform Parker that yelling and swearing in movie theatres tends to get you kicked out. Parkovitch fluff.


**i don't actually know where this came from**

**disclaimer: the long walk is not mine.**

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Barkovitch wasn't sure why he had actually agreed to this.

Sure, he knew that Parker was a little bit weird, but musical movies? From what Barkovitch knew about musicals, they usually consisted of roughly two hours of people singing, crying, and kissing. Three things that he strongly disliked.

"The line's so fucking long," Parker said irritably.

"This was your idea, not mine."

Parker pushed a small child out of the way and cut a few people in the line. "C'mere, Barkobitch. Who cares if a few little kids miss their showing of whatever shitty animated movie is out right now?"

Some parent yelled something angry and Barkovitch couldn't help but laugh a little. "Sure, whatever you say, tough guy who happens to be going to Les Miserables with his boyfriend."

There was an echo of laughter among the line of people and Parker shoved him. Barkovitch gave an irritating grin and shoved back.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the two boys finally ended up inside the mostly-packed inside of the movie theatre. Parker got up to go get whatever over-saturated food was being sold, leaving Barkovitch to watch the previews for some sort of teen drama movie. It involved somebody falling in love, breaking up, and then getting back together again. God, couldn't anybody in movies ever maintain a fucking stable relationship?

Parker returned with a large box-was it even a box? He coudn't even fucking tell-of popcorn and sat down beside Barkovitch, who looked strangely fixated on the ads.

"What'd I miss?"

"Some shitty movie about somebody breaking up and a crime thriller. The serial killer looked fucking lame and somebody tore out their own throat. In the fucking preview." Parker laughed and sat down. "Why the hell are we even here, anyways? I hate musicals."

"Shut up, Barkobitch, I think the movie's starting."

"I fucking hate musicals!"

"Shut up!"

There was, indeed, a lot of singing from the moment the film started, and Barkovitch had to wonder whether seeing a bunch of poor guys singing about how much their lives sucked was really worth watching.

"Why are they singing about looking down?" He hissed to Parker.

"I told you to shut the fuck up, this is my favorite song."

"Oh, really, I thought it was the one with the blonde chick singing to the possible pedophile through the gate?"

"They're all my favorite songs. Now shut the fuck up."

"Aren't musicals kind of gay?"

Parker threw a bit of popcorn in his direction but missed, hitting somebody a few seats down. The person in question glared in their direction, and Barkovitch swore that it was Abraham. "Is that Abraham?"

"He comes to all my dates and just sort of walks around discreetly in the background. It's sweet in a really goddamn creepy way."

"This isn't a date!"

Somebody in the row below them shushed them loudly. Which was ironic, considering that they were asking them to shut up.

"Yeah, this sure as fuck is a date. I bought you fucking flowers. Those were like twenty bucks!"

"Good to know, Blondie."

"That's a lame-ass nickname." Parker turned his attention back to the screen, on which Jean Valjean was going through a heartfelt musical number about redemption while a sad-looking bishop gave him food.

"How'd he get from that ship place to the mountains? Did it have something to do with that gay policeman?"

"If you'd actually been paying attention..." Parker grabbed another fistful of popcorn and tossed it at Barkovitch, who did likewise. Barkovitch was pretty sure that they were disturbing the movie, but honestly, he never actually gave a fuck about that sort of shit.

While Jean Valjean wailed about his identity issues, Barkovitch finally just resorted to stuffing bits of popcorn in his mouth rapidly to keep from another attack from Parker. Parker eventually dumped the contents of his soda on top of Barkovitch's head, causing the other boy to swear loudly.

Parker was about to tell him to shut up again when both of them felt a hand on their shoulders. "Excuse me, boys, you're going to have to leave."

"God damn it," Parker muttered. Barkovitch cheered silently and Parker shoved him as they made their way out of the theatre. "Why the hell'd you have to get us kicked out?!"

"I didn't get us kicked out! You did!"

"It was totally your fault, you little shit."

"No!" Parker wrapped his arm around Barkovitch's shoulder and leaned over to lick some of the soda off of his face. "That's disgusting, Parker."

"You totally like it."

"You're slobbering on my fucking face, Blondie!" As if to prove his point, Parker kissed Barkovitch sloppily, knocking both of them over. "Ew, don't spit in my mouth!"

Parker looked down at him dubiously and then began laughing hysterically. "Christ, you're the worst fucking date ever. Remind me never to take you anywhere nice and get you expensive flowers again."

"They weren't even that expensive!"

"Oh, shut your goddamn mouth."

"You shut yours!" Eventually they just ended up kissing again. On the ugly, red-carpeted floor of the downtown AMC.

"We should probably get off of the ground before they fine us or something."

"If you can buy those stupid flowers then you could pay a goddamn fine!"

"Oh my fucking_ god."_

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**i haven't written this pairing in like ten thousand years**


End file.
